


And All Falls to Ash

by DatSonyat



Category: Overlord - Maruyama Kugane & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Blood and Torture, Butterfly Effect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Headcanons Everywhere, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kinda Unintentional Harem, Life Partners, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Self-Indulgent, Semi-Canonical Character, Sporadic Updates, Ulbert attempts to demolish the level cap and magic systems, What-If, as in smut by ch5 latest, character-driven, i can take it down if it's too disappointing no worries, kind of?, maybe not forever but laying it to rest for now, seriously this is Ulbert and Demiurge in the same fic, sorry for deleting the original, yup it's dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 07:56:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DatSonyat/pseuds/DatSonyat
Summary: A reversal: The ninth member of Nine’s Own Goal never quits, so Ulbert remains, and Momonga leaves YGGDRASIL one year before shutdown, leading to a cascade effect few would’ve predicted.Ulbert, as possessive and driven as his best friend, sometimes-lover, and life partner, Amon, refuses to leave all that their guild worked tirelessly to create. Inseparable till death do them part, staying behind with Nazarick and their beloved NPCs at YGGDRASIL’s endisn’teven a question.When the clock hits zero and resets, the New World will tremble before Nazarick’s might and bow to the Demon Gods that rule it… orburn.Also known as: "How did we get here again, exactly? Are we attempting to carry on Peroroncino's legacy? He'd certainly be proud, and I donotlike how I feel about that."[Originally published January 31st 2019.Updated Sept. Note: Can't recover my files, data is gone, fic is on ice indefinitely and I'm okay with that. Thank you to everyone who supported this! I'll treasure your kind words and the fun I had working on it while it was possible. 💖 If anything changes, you'll see an update, otherwise my deepest apologies for this being DOA.]





	And All Falls to Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, friends, so this is back to stay this time. Credit still goes to my awesome friend, Download077, for suggesting I write an "Ulbert gets sent to the New World instead of Momonga" style fic. Now that Those Who Remain is deleted, this is Amon's debut to new readers. If you guys miss TWR enough, though, I might put what I wrote back up.
> 
> All smut chapters will be marked for those who want to skip or read only NSFW content.
> 
>  **Please read if you want to know why my fics went down:** I suffer from serious, permanent health issues and was _extremely_ upset at the amount of time that'd gone by without updating. IRL stress coupled with the rampant theft and plagiarism that goes on in both the AO3 and FFN Overlord archives was the final straw and I ended up pulling my fics. It's difficult to want to keep works up when others just take from them, claim them as their own, and are blindly praised for their theft. It hurts, dear readers, and as multiple of us have experienced lately, is a driving force that _will_ lead to authors taking their stories down if it doesn't stop.
> 
> Please ask instead of ripping things from a fic. Chances are the author will let you if you're respectful and kind about it, and give them credit where credit is due like I do with my fellow authors.
> 
> **I will not answer anything regarding the plagiarism aspect in any comments nor will I start any witch hunts.**
> 
> Now, without further ado, let's do this again. ❤️

 

_Do not go gentle into that good night._  
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

– Dylan Thomas

* * *

 

The all-consuming threat of the inevitable end desecrated the majesty of the Round Table, looming over the circular room’s defeated occupants. Three somber voices echoed softly in the nearly abandoned, hallowed sanctum, the atmosphere rife with their resigned grief.

Mighty pillars of regal, marbled stone ascended like Atlas himself, holding up the world— _their_  world—into the grand arches of a domed ceiling, ornate and bordering on divine in its design. Immaculate white walls descended from it, framed by the most precious of metals threaded up and down them, ribbons of intricately set mythril and orichalcum glimmering in the light.

A massive ebony and ivory table sat in the center of the room, carved to perfection—as all of Nazarick was—and inlaid with dappled pewter, lines of reflective gold, and rich burgundy to create the esteemed guild emblem of the infamous and fearsome Ainz Ooal Gown. Forty-one plush chairs, each crafted to act as miniature thrones, surrounded the table.

As if to remind and taunt them of glory days long gone, only three held the honour of gracing their gods, where once upon a time all had known.

“Wow, so it’s really just the two of you, huh?” Herohero commented, his voice exhausted and grim, an open-mouthed emoji of shock appearing beside his oozy, churning form. Inky shades of violets, blacks, and blues shimmered hypnotically as one of his syrupy, tentacle-like appendages coalesced and reached to pull the holographic guild roster out of nothingness. “Momonga… he seriously hasn’t logged on in almost a year? If anyone, I thought…” he trailed off, his tired, careless remark bordering on insulting. The hushed disbelief colouring his tone was undeniable and served to enhance the Round Table’s ambiance of unsettling emptiness.

An equally quiet but infinitely authoritative voice brimming with malevolent fury and roiling frustration corrected him, “Three-hundred and eighty-one days.”

Ulbert, elegant and kingly to the end, sat several chairs away from the Elder Black Ooze with his arms crossed, posture stiff and hostile beyond a shadow of a doubt. His opulent, black and red cloak draped over the side of his chair, gold ornaments and trim catching the light, the dramatic fall of it heightening the obviousness of his ominous, ever-growing anger.

“He ceded his gear and left us to forge his own Avatara,” Ulbert hissed, indifferent to how Herohero undulated in discomfort at the severity of his seething rage. “He didn’t care to bid Pandora’s Actor a final farewell. I will  _never_  forgive that.”

His wrath filled the room like a noxious miasma, its caustic intensity so overwhelming it was palpable,  _choking_ like acrid smoke clawing its way down their throats.

Momonga blatantly betrayed the remnants of their guild—the guild he was chosen and  _meant_  to lead—and the raw pain Ulbert kept sealed away in the deepest depths of his heart erupted with force enough to rival the fiercest supernova. How callous, how ludicrously heartless to not visit the Treasury one last time, to say goodbye to a life he’d shaped.

From her place beside Herohero, Amon nodded in agreement, her horn adornments and blood red hair, half pulled into a high ponytail while the rest fell in a waterfall of dark, glittering rubies behind her, swaying with the movement.

“Ulbert,” she sighed, resting her chin in the palm of her gloved hand, the segmented, garnet-hued armour protecting the top gleaming, a stark contrast against the table she leaned on, “that’s not Herohero’s fault. Please don’t.” A sad emoji popped up next to her head.

Amon, ever kind to the undeserving ones who’d thrown them away. That pointless generosity he heatedly disputed time and time again would lead her to grievous, irreparable wounds one day, and they’d both shoulder the burden of her scars.

“No, no, I don’t blame you,” Herohero cut in, waving what appeared to be gelatinous tendrils in place of arms. “You acted in place of our guildmaster. The Great Tomb of Nazarick is so well preserved thanks to your hard work. It must have been difficult after Momonga left. I—I wish I could say something more.” His body swayed and sagged, sounding as though he might fall apart before their eyes.

Ulbert’s claws twitched, a precursor to an imperious tirade of ungodly truth ready to be unleashed.

_Difficult? He threw away eleven years of tireless work for **nothing**. He discarded our friendship like common trash, he  **abandoned** —_ Ulbert wanted to snap, but held back, the sensation of stinging venom and sour bile coating his silver tongue. On this day, if Amon wished it, his silence he would grant her, his best friend, his faithful partner, his heart, the one person to never have left him or broken her promises to him.

It wasn’t Herohero’s fault either, she was correct, but  _he’d_  still slipped out of their lives like all the others. Of course it was easy to answer their email, to log on for a scant twenty minutes to vent his RL frustrations like Nazarick and their creations—like him and Amon—were  _meaningless_.

How the hell was Herohero better than the others, in Amon’s eyes?

He grit his teeth IRL, swallowing the sheer animosity running rampant through him. But that was wrong, wasn’t it? Everyone had lives, responsibilities, families, while he and Amon had each other alone and their meager jobs to consider.

His arms grew slack, dignified pose wilting an infinitesimal fraction. Everything he loved existed within Nazarick and now—

_Ending, it was **ending**._ The world his true self existed in was ending, not with a bang, but a pathetic whimper, the barest flicker of a dying flame fading into the unrelenting dark.

YGGDRASIL was their true life, Nazarick their ultimate home, their safe place, their NPCs the family they wished to have… and it was to be taken away, no longer worth the effort in the eyes of the shitty devs.

“Ah, I’m sorry for complaining about RL, guys,” Herohero said, admonishing himself more than apologizing. The limbs he conjured tapped on the air in a sloppy, disorganized fashion, clearly going through his HUD. “Seems like I left everything of mine in the Treasury back then.”

Amon sat up straight, her crown of flames swirling and dancing along her crystalline horns as she moved and gave him a pat on the ‘head,’ viscous slime melting through her comforting fingers. She emoted a smiley and said, “You did, don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of everything from here on out.” A grinning smiley emoji sprang into being, but Ulbert knew his friend, and though compassionate and caring she likely sounded to Herohero, he heard the strain in her gentle voice, the pain and regret.

He said nothing, fire and loathing threatening to spill from his lips both on protective instinct and burning desire. Herohero had still been a comrade for ten years.

What good would it do to tear into an old friend now?

Herohero returned Amon’s emoji, dipping his head in thanks. “I need to log off now. I’d really stay until the end, but I’m about to fall asleep.”

“Yeah, you don’t sound… alright.” She tilted her head in concern, delicate, interlocked chains of gold dripping with jewels and tiny amethyst diamonds clinking in a soft melody.

How polite of Amon. He sounded worse than that, more like he was about to drop dead over passing out, and a shower of guilt dampened the needless contempt boiling in Ulbert’s chest.

“Go to that doctor you were talking about, okay?” She made an exaggerated show of pressing her clawed fingertips to her lips, then pantomimed blowing him a kiss, complete lack of facial expressions and all. “For me, maybe?” Amon teased him, snickering at the blushing emojis Herohero spammed.

“I will. Save your worries for Ulbert—“

Ulbert scoffed, drawing himself up in his chair, looking every inch the imposing, terrifying demon he thought himself. He tapped a razor sharp talon against the table, the clicking sound echoing throughout the room, seemingly brighter than it had been in years. “Oh,  _please_ , you little flirt. First you attempt to seduce my life partner”—Herohero’s startled, vehement protests spoke of days long past and his heart clenched with his own regret—“and now you turn  _your_  worry toward I? Have you forgotten who  _I_  am? Ulbert Alain Odle, Demon of Great Disaster, transcending Ainz Ooal Gown itself as Helheim’s most powerful magic caster? I think  _not_.”

Herohero laughed, the tail-end of his breaths rough and stretched thin despite it being the most animated reaction he’d shown all evening. “It was good seeing you again. Goodnight, Ulbert, Amon.” He bowed to each of them in a fluid, appreciative wave. “I’m glad we could meet tonight. Let’s do it again when YGGDRASIL II comes out—actually,” Herohero paused, body contorting in nervousness, “if you haven’t already, will you… say goodbye to, uh… hm,  _Solution_  and the maids for me?”

Scorching flame surged through Ulbert’s veins as tempered steel hardened his bones, the finger poised to strike the table trembling with barely restrained outrage.

YGGDRASIL II…? Such a thing didn’t exist, and if it did, what bearing did it have on everything they were about to lose? And another lazy, damned incompetent  _coward_  who refused to do it themselves? Another who faltered in remembering the name of their  _own_  NPC? What the  _f_ —

Amon, not requiring sense for she knew all of him too well, too deeply, spoke before he could truly explode, “We’re going as soon as you do. Everyone’s received a proper send-off already.” She shrugged with a melancholy emote, wings bobbing. “The Floor Guardians deserve something more, I think,” she explained, notes of genuine sorrow lacing her contralto voice.

_“And I’ll ask you to fly away with me.”_

_With what wings?_

Herohero sunk in his seat, all of him runny and melting, mirroring how he must’ve felt IRL. “I—yeah. Thank you, both of you, for everything. I’m off. Really, let’s meet again,” he whispered the final part hoarsely, absolute exhaustion on the cusp of overcoming him.

**Herohero has logged out**  flashed across their HUDs, white letters encased in slick, gold filigree sparkling with motes of shining sunlight singing a dirge of farewell, and then there was nothing, the Round Table’s last droplets of life draining from the room.

The final member—the only member, because those who’d bothered replying to the mass email falsely apologized and  _left them_ —of Ainz Ooal Gown had come and gone, their beloved guild now a relic of the past, soon to be erased forevermore.

Ulbert clenched his shaking fists, staring at the host of empty seats before his eyes, ablaze with an all-encompassing rage. In that moment, he despised them  _all_ —hated every single missing guildmate, hated every shitty dev, hated  _Momonga_  with every furious fiber of his being.

At the very least, the man could’ve—

“He forgot Solution’s name.”

Ulbert tore his eyes away from the hole he was burning in the wall and looked to Amon, the unchanging serene, alluring smile on her avatar’s pale face a hideous disparity listening to the rarest of disgusted disbelief and horrified anger in her voice.

“He did,” he confirmed, resisting the powerful urge slam the table or begin hurling indiscriminate flares of hellfire into the walls. Nazarick was still sacred ground, still his home, and he’d be damned before sullying it in such a way.

Until the server shutdown, he was Ulbert Alain Odle first, would doubtlessly hold onto that part of himself for another decade, and senseless violence of his own making against his home was something he’d never allow.

“He  _forgot_  Solution’s name,” Amon repeated, as cold and deadly as the frozen, unforgiving tundra of Niflheim. She sprang to her feet, demonic, feathered wings heaving, and covered her ever-smiling mouth, as disgusted with her inability to express appropriate emotion in YGGDRASIL as she was with Herohero’s offense. “How  _dare_  they keep forgetting. They aren’t just code, they’re  _ours_ , they’re—“ She cut herself off, her chest plate heaving in a mockery of the deep, grieved breaths she took to calm herself.

_Our loved ones._

Just as she knew all the facets of his heart, Ulbert knew hers and here, at the end of all things, found himself drowning in a tide of gratitude. He thanked all the dark deities that be that he didn’t have to suffer this alone, that Touch Me hadn’t succeeded in driving her away all those years ago.

_“Your roleplay goes a bit too far, you know?”_

No.

_“They aren’t real, come on now.”_

No.

_“This is getting to be too much…”_

_No._

_“You have to understand this isn’t healthy.”_

**_NO._ **

They were wrong. They were  _all_  wrong, and Momonga? Ulbert thought, glancing at the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. It shined in ethereality, a beacon of remembrance and a Golden Age drifting into the ether, spinning in its place, the tangible ghost of Nazarick haunting the halls of the Ninth Floor. The seven serpents twisted around it cried out in soundless misery and agony, their anguish a mimicry of theirs, as if they too felt the immeasurable loss and abandonment of those no longer here, of the one meant to wield it  _gone_ , and all that it symbolized disappearing into the Void in less than thirty minutes.

_“I have to leave. It’s not like I have much choice,” he says, acidic poison dripping from his nonexistent lips, pinpricks of red flaring in indignation._

“The fool should have made one of us guildmaster,” Ulbert spat, running a hand over the half of his unmasked face. He rose from his seat and glided with grace unparalleled to Amon’s side, covering the hand fastened over her mouth with his own. His hand squeezed, the pressure gentle, tugging at her infinitely stronger one.

They were considered one of YGGDRASIL’s most famous, unstoppable duos for countless reasons, after all.

[23:33:57] pulsated in a warning of foreboding red in the upper right of his HUD, and Amon’s shoulders hitched, the alarms they’d set going off for her too.

They had to go, if they desired to see the Floor Guardians one last time. Not even the connection to his Dive gear could lessen the jarring sensation of his stomach dropping, chest tightening.

_“Demiurge… you know I would never leave you, my most loyal one, don’t you?” he asks, rhetorical, wishing to run his fingers along the Arch-Devil’s cheek, settling on the air nearest to it instead. And then he laughs like a sophisticated madman and declares, “I promise I’ll stay until this world’s end... no, I’ll stay even after this world ends!”_

He’d lied to Demiurge. If he could speak, would his creation spurn him and rightly condemn him for breaking his heartfelt promise?

Ulbert was as an open book to Amon and she tended to him, caring and looking out for his well-being first as she always did. She removed her hand to take his into her firm grasp. She clasped it with both of hers, pressing her unmoving lips to his gloved knuckles, a hair’s breadth away from where his metallic claws began.

“The Divine Lady of Nazarick should not behave in such an indecorous way,” Amon murmured, assuming her usual act, rubbing the leather of his palm against her cheek. “An eve of Armageddon does not become us this time, darling.” The soft rasp to her voice, damaged years before, did little to dissuade him from thinking it magnificent—her songs often a balm for his soul, lullabies they sang together in the long, sleepless nights.

“Such can be forgiven,  _will_  always be forgiven by me. I apologize for my own impropriety as well, dearheart,” Ulbert replied in earnest, cupping her cheek. His claw tips traced the patterns of scarlet crystal formations that grew from the sides of her face, extending from her pointed ears to follow the curve of her cheekbones, resting beneath the center of her gold eyes and flowing downwards in a river of glorious crimson. “Let us go now, my dear, this world no longer turns on our whims.” His words were bitter, though his voice and mannerisms stayed true to who he was.

He could humiliate himself once it was over, take comfort in Amon’s arms selfishly for her agony was as great as his, mourning together for their home and those they’d loved without restraint. Poor he was at comforting others, even after the twelve years they’d spent together, and Ulbert cursed himself for it, just as lost in his own grief.

[23:37:48]

“To Shalltear, then?” Amon put forth, the slightest tremour in her voice causing him to swallow the steadily building lump in his throat. “We won’t have… time for every floor.”

“Shalltear deserves our praise,” Ulbert agreed, twining their fingers together. He spared the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown a final glance, the supreme weapon—the heart and soul—of their guild, an acknowledgement he wouldn’t forget. Amon followed his gaze and squeezed his hand, understanding him and resolute in what she intended to do.

“[Eye of Providence].” A black circle of magic spread out beneath her feet, bathing them in willowy shadow and eerie, glowing wisps of the arcane. Amon’s parent [Third Eye] spell, one she dedicated constant MP to maintain, swirled into being in the center of her forehead, the small golden circle shifting to red as the spectral eye opened. “[Perfect Recall].”

Before their eyes, all of the colours of the room ignited with captivating vibrancy, as if an almighty god blew the breath of life itself into the room, the sumptuous colours and sinuous shapes and tempting whispers of the universe sprawled out in knowing invitation.

That which was lost returned, the feeling hollow, but a welcome sight nonetheless, as all the seats of the Round Table grew full with phantasmal spectres.

Amanomahitotsu placed his newest creation on the table, Takemikazuchi eagerly showing off the latest version of his sword beside it while Touch Me leaned over his other side, hands whipping through the air in excitement—their animated conversation silent.

Peroroncino bolted up in his seat, stabbing a hilariously dramatic finger at the ghostly version of Ulbert, who threw his arms up and pointed back at him before BukubukuChagama whacked Peroroncino upside the head. Yamaiko and Luci★Fer sunk their faces into their hand and hands respectively, albeit for entirely different reasons, and the copy of Amon’s shoulders shook in clear chuckles.

Whitebrim and Herohero gesticulated wildly over a virtual sketchpad, pulling the wilting Punitto Moe over them to show off their latest designs.

Tablua Smaragdina crossed his arms and shrugged at Punitto Moe’s visual, amusing and dignified cry for help, turning to Momonga like he could do something about.

This Momonga merely heaved with laughter, slapping the table in the face of his overexcited guildmates, the forty-one of them bringing him the highest joy imaginable.

Even Bellriver, long gone for reasons entirely different—one of the few times Ainz Ooal Gown had come together IRL for his funeral—sat near Momonga, gesturing to Tabula about something unknown.

_He rubs his neck nervously, haunted eyes darting back and forth, searching for something unseen and omnipresent. “We really shouldn’t be talking like this. This kind of thing could get us— **you** —ki—“_

“I—stop, that’s enough,” Ulbert said, fumbling for choked words upon witnessing Bellriver’s true ghost.  _Three years,_  he thought, malice and helplessness coiling in his gut. That bastard, Touch—but,  _no_ , he wasn’t worth the effort and Ulbert felt just as responsible, here in his world when he could’ve—

“It’s not our job, Ulbert. We couldn’t have—I’m sorry, I didn’t realize [Perfect Recall] would show him too.” Amon spread her arm out, the fluid wave of it calling forth a sweeping gale of unseen wind, blowing the glory of the past back into itself in iridescent fountains of multi-coloured, twinkling light. The magic dispelled in whorls of shadow and her [Eye of Providence] faded, [Third Eye] falling back into her skin, invisible and akin to a passive once more.

Ulbert turned, near imperceptibly, his distance speaking for him. “You say that, but you’ve been thinking of him.”

Amon wished to lean into him, but forewent it, unwilling to cause him any more discomfort and pain. Rubbing one of the gauntlets protecting her forearm, she spoke in a grave, tremulous tone, “Coup De Grâce convinced me to watch an old movie once—it had to be over a hundred years old, you know how much he loved those—and one of the characters said, ‘The dead don’t die, they look on and help,’ and—“ Her voice fell to absolute, unnerving silence, an indicator she’d muted herself, too emotional to continue.

(Because if he pictured her crying, he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself.)

_The dead don’t die? How naïve, how grossly short-sighted and willfully ignorant. Of course the dead **die**  and they certainly don’t keep watch, they don’t  **help** —they’re dead, they  **can’t**  do  **anything**._

_They’re gone. They left us. They left **me**._

He didn’t want to contemplate it, didn’t have the spare emotional energy.

“Shalltear,” Ulbert said, terse, and tugged at Amon, taking in the sight of the Round Table Room for the last time. The time drew ever nearer to midnight.

Pervasive emptiness stared back, unblinking, uncaring, its luxury a forsaken mockery, and the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown activated, the world before him changing in an instant.

The Catacombs held both a holy and profane aura, their dreary, solemnity striking in their own way, as much of Nazarick was. Slabs of grey stone rose into what could be mistaken for a limitless ceiling, a gaping maw of black nearly eclipsing what light filtered through the area. Broken panes of stained glass windows littered the ground, deceptive and artful in their placement, hiding clever traps.

Exactly where they’d left her, the True Vampire stood near the entrance to the Second Floor, her lips curved in a polite yet sensual smile, tips of her fangs peeking out to complete her charming appearance.

“Good evening, Shalltear,” Ulbert greeted her as a monarch, using his favourite devilish, smirking emoji, offering her a hint of a gentlemanly bow.

Gods didn’t truly bow to their subordinates, of course.

Peroroncino had spared no expense in creating his work of art, including additions to her standard YGGDRASIL AI routine, so she curtsied in response, her voluminous, violet-black gown rippling as she bowed to him. Shalltear emoted back at him with a lipstick print emoji and Ulbert couldn’t find it in himself to curse Peroroncino’s crass, debauched existence.

Not tonight.

“Hello, lovely Shalltear.” Amon sauntered up beside him, her graceful movements and throaty voice nothing short of flawless, all traces of human emotion gone as his were.

The final act mattered. Everything else could be said once it was over.

Amon’s hand nudged his hesitantly and Ulbert took it without a second thought, instead empowering the words almost threatening to catch and die in his throat.

“Shalltear Bloodfallen, Guardian of the First, Second, and Third Floors, we”—gods? No, slightly too much, although it delighted him. Supreme rulers? Better, but Momonga was still listed as the guildmaster. Supreme… beings?  _Yes_ , from his research in naming Demiurge—“we, the Supreme Beings of Nazarick, those who remained, wish to grant you our utmost thanks.”

Following his lead, Amon gifted Shalltear a smiley, which the NPC instantly returned, “Indeed. You, who have borne the brunt of endless assaults against Nazarick, have steadfastly stood strong without hesitation in defending our greatest pride, our dearest home. May you hold our thanks and love close to your heart eternally.” Amon held a hand over her heart and inclined her head to the First Floor Guardian, eliciting a second curtsy.

Outside, they heard the faint thunder of frenzied fireworks, likely the work of both the GMs and last vestiges of players. Any shouts of victory, complaints, and pleading fell on literal deaf ears, as they’d muted all of Helheim’s public channels out of respect and in reverence to the NPCs that deserved their full attention.

“Shalltear, reach,” Amon commanded, holding out her free hand, palm downturned. Shalltear raised hers, mimicking the motion perfectly. She took the smaller hand in hers, coming closer to the short NPC, and bent as a gentleman courting the finest lady would to brush the back of Shalltear’s moonlight white hand with a kiss, a heart emoji with it.

Multiple heart emojis sprang from Shalltear’s smiling, meticulously crafted countenance, her crimson eyes reflecting the light of Amon’s blazing Morningstar’s Legacy as if in answer. 

{How inspired,} Ulbert sent through a [Message], envious he hadn’t thought of it himself and pleased with the distraction their final act brought him. They wouldn’t be kicked from the server for something so innocent.

{Thank you, I try,} Amon replied, a hint of smugness and a sly wink in her tone. Anything was better than the crushing weight of YGGDRASIL ending.

Not to be outdone, Ulbert commanded Shalltear similarly and slipped her petite hand into his, giving her a kiss of his own. “Thank you for your hard work, Shalltear, it shan’t be forgotten, and we will remain with you and Nazarick until the end of time.”

Cool wind whistled through the halls and Ulbert subconsciously reached for his earrings, ones created to specifically match Demiurge.

[23:43:03]

How—how was that enough time to say goodbye…?

{Cocytus next?} he proposed, anxious and agitated, unable to bear the thought of not giving his creation all that he was, all that he had to say before they were ripped apart. Amon adored Cocytus, though, and the two of them had promised Takemikazuchi to spend time with him in his stead.

Pinpricks of betrayal stung the back of his neck, hackles raised. Crackling licks of tiny flame flickered into being as the base level of his Hellfire Eternal Aura materialized. If Takemikazuchi hadn’t left, he could’ve done so with Cocytus himself.

{To the Fifth Floor.} Amon sounded grim, the same line of thought likely going through her head as well. She released his hand to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Until we meet again, Shalltear,” Amon bid her a wistful farewell, and teleported away.

Ulbert regarded the vanguard of Nazarick, the Bloody Valkyrie who’d inspired even Amon at times, a moment longer.

_“Check out my masterpiece!” Peroroncino exclaims in pride, hands on his hips. “Her Spuit Lance? Divine-class, baby!” He cackles and wraps an arm around Shalltear’s shoulder, revelling in his comrades’ cries of “No way!” and “You actually did it!”_

He’d grudgingly called the unrepentant perv a magnificent bastard, so impressed—and jealous he hadn’t done the same for Demiurge—was he by Shalltear’s build and genius custom equipment.

“Peroroncino would be proud of you, proud beyond all words and imagining,” Ulbert told her, burdened with the thought that it was only right—to hear praise on behalf of her loved one, if she were as alive as he—and followed after Amon.

As much as she belonged there, something about leaving Shalltear in that barren tomb stirred up a disquieting sense of wrongness. They just didn’t have enough time to gather all the Floor Guardians in one place nor was it strategically intelligent, should some irredeemable group of imbecilic morons attempt a foolhardy attack in retribution.

It was paranoia speaking, he knew, a dull feeling of cold enveloping his hooves as the Fifth Floor filled his vision. Amon was already speaking to Cocytus at the entrance to Snowball Earth where they’d stationed him.

Protecting his dwelling like they did Nazarick, a final tribute to the Ruler of the Frozen Glacier.

“Greetings, Cocytus.” Ulbert tipped his hat in recognition to the massive Vermin Lord towering over them once he’d reached the pair, cloak fluttering in the icy breeze. Shards of radiant ice and glints of snow floated through the glittering air, coating Snowball Earth and the jewel-like crystals surrounding Cocytus’s residence in a fine layer of gossamer rime.

Cocytus bowed to him and his legion of bewitching, wraith-like Frost Virgins followed suit, their rivers of onyx hair waving in the wind like flags of war, ever appropriate for their master. He held his Decapitation Fang in one upper arm, the opposite wielding God Slaying Emperor Blade—Amon’s decision, not one of practicality, but sentimentality, as if a simple sword gifted to him by his creator could ease the pain of Warrior Takemikazuchi’s absence.

_Foolish,_  but he refrained. No time to debate, not when Demiurge awaited his arrival.

“We, the remaining Supreme Beings, wish to grant you our highest thanks, Cocytus,” Amon stated with queenly intent, head angled just so: an acknowledgement that she understood how he felt, though she couldn’t agree. Her crown of flames danced up and down her horns, encircling the lower pair like lovers twining together, illuminating the translucent tips, the eternal fire of Surtr’s Breath never to extinguish amongst the raging blizzards of the Fifth Floor.

“Yes, our thanks and respect you have earned, Cocytus, Guardian of the Fifth Floor. Many times your might alone has halted invaders who dared to defile the halls of our consecrated home.” Ulbert gave the Guardian the same emote he gave Shalltear and swept his arms out in a grand gesture, cloak splaying open in gleaming silk and velvet, golden chains chiming their song and framing his exalted dark greatness against the blinding purity of the snow. “Truly superb, our loyal Guardian,” he mused, recalling tales of Cocytus’s heroic and honourable exploits in defending the Fifth Floor.

_“Battling alongside Cocytus one last time is my dream, but all things end,” Takemikazuchi replies, sad and grim, having accepted his lot in life and the disappointment of needing to leave YGGDRASIL. “He should like this, right? My finest sword for the finest warrior I’ve fought side by side with.”_

Cocytus’s glossy, cobalt eyes demanded his attention, piercing straight through to his soul, considerate and patient regardless of the pain he faced as Takemikazuchi had been, willing to listen and console no matter the cost to himself. His pale blue exoskeleton glimmered in the artificial light, an unending march of unbreakable, luminous diamonds a testament to the noble knight they protected. Diamond dust and hoarfrost poured from him, and Ulbert found himself glad his flinch IRL hadn’t translated to his avatar.

Like Cocytus knew they were leaving and wept for them. Amon’s wings twitched, and he knew he wasn’t alone in that despairing thought.

“Before he left this world,” Ulbert began, tamping down as much emotion as he could, the corners of his eyes burning, “Takemikazuchi’s desire was not one of glory in battle or victory against his rival, but to have the chance to find that victory he dreamed of with you, his—“

[23:48:39]

_Shit._

“Reach,” he ordered, and Cocytus extended one large hand, the back of it sprouting icicles and overflowing with his Frost Aura. “You deserve far more, Cocytus, but I am needed elsewhere. I shall leave you to my Lady Amon.” He clasped the stilted, robotic hand that couldn’t clasp back between his far smaller ones, gripping his hand with a depth of strength and emotion he hadn’t expected.

It felt like saying goodbye to Takemikazuchi a second, devastating time.

“Know this,” he decreed with all the authority of what he believed a true ruler of Nazarick should sound like, “you will never be alone. We are with you always, no matter how far we may be. Carry this everlasting affection of ours in your heart and be worthy of our favour evermore.”

Ulbert emoted a rarely-used softly smiling emoji followed by a blue heart in quick succession, and Cocytus reacted with a serious emoji of his own, then mirrored the blue heart.

“Be well, Cocytus,” he managed, the finality of it all bearing down on him all at once, and cursed the tears gathering along his tear-line. He let go of the NPC’s hand and stepped back, burning Cocytus’s tall and majestic image into his mind. His six blue eyes sparkled, a wordless understanding seemingly emanating from them.

He would never forget.

With that, Ulbert teleported to the Seventh Floor, unfit to see to the tears he sensed his farewell had stirred up in Amon.

“As expected of Ulbert,” Amon murmured to herself, voice wet and uneven, looking up at Cocytus through conflicting blurry and static-filled sight. Dive gear had never been spectacular whenever tears or physical RL pain were involved. “He spoke the truth, splendid knight of Nazarick. Kneel.”

Cocytus complied immediately, hulking form seamlessly tucking into itself, weapons pointed down in deference. Though he knelt, his size and height were formidable and he remained three fourths of a meter as tall as Amon, making her appear tiny in comparison.

She’d always loved that about him.

Amon placed a hand atop Cocytus’s smooth, lustrous head, running her palm and fingertips across it in light strokes. He held a special place in her heart, an honourable warrior who cared deeply for his comrades, polite and accepting, with the truest heart of a warrior who wished to protect everything important to him, more than willing to sacrifice himself if necessary.

A true masterpiece of an NPC, one who didn’t receive the same accolades ones like Shalltear or Mare did.

Another breeze of icy wind ruffled the feathered bottoms of her crimson wings, the leathery devil-like top half of them untouched and unmoving.

“Frost Virgins, return to your posts,” the sharp order rang out across the Fifth Floor.

What she had to say belonged to Cocytus alone, and they obeyed, dispersing with placid, worshipful bows.

“What Ulbert was unable to finish saying,” Amon bent at the waist, knees curling slightly to accommodate the position, uncaring that this was a manner of kneeling to a subordinate, “was Takemikazuchi’s final words to us, his final wish. His desire was to fight at your side just once more, not as his servant, but as his…” She pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes, the coolness and dull, solid presence against her exposed skin the few indicators Cocytus remained. “His brother in arms,” she breathed, hands cupping the blunt curves of his mandibles. She gazed into his glittering eyes, desperately searching for emotions never to be found. “We stayed, but you mustn’t forget Takemikazuchi’s love for you was as real as ours is. Cocytus, hug.”

As long as it didn’t register as R-18, the server wouldn’t react and all of the GMs had to be too busy fielding worse offenses.

His weapons disappeared in flashes of striking royal blue auroras and all four of his gigantic, segmented arms embraced her, the movement strangely more natural than any of the humanoid appearing NPCs. His tail shifted around them, resting shy of the slightest heels of her dark red boots. Her wings folded around him in response. Amon allowed herself to rest against him, looping her arms around his thick neck, cheek pressed to his mandibles.

“You’ve given me much joy, Cocytus. You have my sincerest apologies that few recognize how much of an asset you are to Ainz Ooal Gown. I’ve never overlooked you, and our friendly spars are some of my fondest memories here,” she confessed to him, opening her eyes to look over his bulk into the bedazzling landscape of the Fifth Floor’s breathtaking beauty.

Grief thrashed in her chest, constricting her heart with its fragmented, dagger-like teeth, its monstrous jaws ready to snap shut. Amon tightened her grip, wishing to bind Cocytus to herself, anything to keep him from disappearing once the clock struck midnight.

“Although,” she had to laugh through her breathless tears, fingers ghosting along the back of his neck, “I am  _truly_  sorry we used you as a Christmas tree that one time, and that time Luci★Fer dyed you pink with that awful prank item to mock Western Valentine’s Day and… ah, it seems you really endured the foolishness of our silly holidays.” Amon’s soft chuckle was hollow, the guilt at having used Cocytus for so many of their odd celebrations overwritten by the bonds of friendship and camaraderie they brought.

Cocytus  _had_  received much attention from the others, just not the kind she’d—and by extension, Takemikazuchi—wanted for him.

[23:53:42]

Her heart ached, pounding in her chest, grief’s fangs poised to sever it. Less than seven minutes and then everything would be gone.

Albedo, the last bastion and silent right hand of the Throne of Kings, always left lonely in the desolate Throne Room, also needed a final farewell and the likelihood of Ulbert having time enough to go to her was minimal.

He belonged with Demiurge and she wouldn’t encroach on that much needed closure, though she loved him nearly as much as Ulbert.

“Please forgive me, Cocytus, I must attend to the others now. Rise.” Amon stepped out of his embrace as he stood and recalled his weapons. She flared her wings to hover above him, gliding backwards just enough to witness him in his full glory. His head followed, eyes tracking her.

Cocytus, the true jewel, the greatest treasure the Fifth Floor showcased.

She would never forget.

“You are loved, by me, by Ulbert—never forget that.”

Amon disappeared in a flash of light and would’ve left a trail of glittering, frozen tears behind had her avatar been able to do so.

 

* * *

 

Art commissioned from my good friend, [Kisetsukaze](https://twitter.com/Kisetsukaze), and posted with her permission, to give a more solid idea of Amon's appearance and one of her armour sets. =)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a huge rewrite, but I tweaked things I felt needed it. Brace yourself for more feels as YGGDRASIL ends and buckle up because we're going to the New World next chapter. 
> 
> I'll be revealing their character sheets through the story mostly, but why not share pieces here and there? 
> 
> **Amon's racial classes:** Imp (10) > Succubus (10) > Sin of Lust (5) > Daughter of Lilith (5) | etc (20)  
>  **Ulbert's racial classes:** Imp (10) > Demon Lord (10) > Horned King (5) > Baphomet (5) | etc (20)
> 
> So yeah, Amon is absolutely a sex demon, which in no way diminishes how Ulbert's racials will affect him. 👀 You want smut? I've got smut. Another thank you goes out to Download077 who helped me with naming Ulbert's racials and the chapter title. FWIW, their racial builds are both based off of Albedo and Demiurge respectively and Sin of Lust is a nod to FMA:B, Daughter of Lilith toward my original novel, Demon Lord to my favourite Digimon group, and Horned King is both a tribute to the movie Black Cauldron and Ulbert's Baphomet racial.
> 
> A _massive_ shoutout to Download077, HufflepuffKat, MamaMaria, monsterhat, LurkingEvil, and Kensalyn for sticking with me through this whole ride and pulling me out of the deep, dark holes I kept finding myself in. They're all incredible friends and wonderful authors—who I highly recommend you check out and read!—and I couldn't be more proud of all they've accomplished.
> 
> Expect more art next chapter as well!


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